


Imagine Giving Sam an Exam in the Ambulance

by MuchAmused



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Huffy Chest Sam, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt!Sam, Medic!Reader, Medical, Medical Exam, SPN Imagine, Sam Whump, Short One Shot, Spn whump, emt!reader, huffychest!Sam, paramedic!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: Imagine being called out on an ambulance run only to find the Winchesters have saved a woman from a drowning, and one of them may need medical attention himself.





	Imagine Giving Sam an Exam in the Ambulance

__

_Sam and Dean Winchester have been working a case in your town. A case involving ghosts. Before all is said and done they find themselves having to track down the belongings of said ghost. Two victims and five days later, the last of the objects in need of salting and burning is a locket that has been passed down to a young woman who is a distant relative of the spirit._

_By the time the Winchesters realize the young woman has the locket and catch up with her down by the lake, it’s all they can do to convince her she’s in danger. The young woman is startled by their almost desperate attempts to get her to hand over the family heirloom, and before they can explain themselves, she’s suddenly pulled by an unseen force into the water, forced further and further from the shore._

_Sam hollers for Dean to get ready and dives into the lake after the woman. Dean watches in horror as his brother swims out in search of the woman who is seen only for brief instances, fighting to come up for air, as the vengeful spirit tries to drag her under. Dean reluctantly sprints to the car for the few items he’ll need before coming to the water’s edge again._

_Sam reaches the woman and struggles to keep her head above water, but the panic-stricken woman pulls Sam down with her. The spirit creates an almost cyclone-like motion in the water, causing Sam to tumble and get disoriented under the water. He hits his head on a rock at the bottom, but luckily not hard enough to do more than put a gash in his forehead._

_When he manages to get a hold of the woman again she’s drifting at the bottom, unconscious and pinned by the spirit. He pulls the chain from around her neck, causing it to break and come free._

_Dean watches Sam come to the surface, gasping for air. But Sam’s only come up long enough to holler to Dean and throw the locket back to shore for him._

_Dean quickly salts the locket, pouring some lighter fluid on it in the dirt and adding a match to the mix. When he glances back up his brother is nowhere to be seen, already beneath the water’s surface again._

_Dean wrings his hands anxiously, relieved when Sam finally resurfaces with the young woman in tow._

_Dean wades out into the water to take her from Sam and carry her safely to shore. Sam is coughing up water, fighting to catch his breath as Dean gently lays the woman down and checks her carotid for a pulse. He’s unable to locate one and immediately positions his hands over her sternum, starting chest compressions._

_Sam coughs while he dials 911 on Dean’s phone. It’s almost five minutes into CPR when Sam convinces Dean that he’s okay to take a turn doing compressions._

_It’s another three minutes of Sam pumping her chest before water pours from the woman’s mouth and Dean is tipping her on her side as she coughs and sputters._

_Dean assures her that she’s safe now, that they took care of the thing that had hold of her and pulled her under. They keep her still and tell her to take it easy and catch her breath as sirens wail in the near distance._

_The first ambulance on the scene takes the young woman to the hospital._

_Yours is the second to arrive._

You and your partner approach the policeman who is speaking to a man near the edge of the water. As you continued to scan the area you spot a classic Chevy Impala parked in the not-so-far distance. A second man is closing one of the back doors and heading back in your direction.

“What exactly happened here?” your partner asks the officer.

“These two pulled the lady from the water and started CPR,” the cop answers, gesturing with a wave of his hand to include the man who’s approaching as well. “Lucky they were close by. They managed to revive her before we got here.”

You give the man standing before you an impressed nod. He doesn’t appear to be in any distress. In fact, he doesn’t seem to have even gotten wet above thigh level, from the sight of his jeans.

The guy anticipates your question and says, “My brother just ran to change into some dry clothes in the car,” gesturing with a jerk of his thumb to the second man who steps up to the group just then. This man’s almost shoulder-length brown hair is still wet. He’s as tall as he’d seemed from a distance, towering over you.

“You pulled the woman from the water?” you ask him.

He nods, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets and angling his body a little to face you. Now that you have a better look, you have to stifle the urge to stare. This man has the makings of a Greek God. Plain and simple.

He also has a small laceration on his forehead that’s still bleeding. You immediately pull it together and introduce yourself by first name, asking him for his name as you reach for his hand and press two fingers to his left wrist, feeling his radial pulse.

“It’s Sam,” he says, humoring you and holding still as you pinch his wrist. “And I’m fine, really.” He smiles warmly, but the cough that follows his declaration makes it a little less believable.

His pulse is strong and steady at sixty. But that’s not enough to convince you he doesn’t need an assessment.

“Why don’t you let me take a look at you,” you prompt. “That cut at least needs cleaning, and you could have aspirated some lake water.”

He hesitates, unsure.

“Let the nice medic check you over, Sam,” the second man says, obviously concerned and convinced you’re right.

“She’s right,” your partner adds. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Come on,” you encourage Sam with a smile. “I promise I won’t bite.”

The first man smirks at your comment and says, “Oh, he won’t mind if you do. Will ya, Sammy?”

“Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes at him, exasperated, but he gives in and let’s you lead him over to the back of the ambulance while your partner stays behind to get the full scoop.

“I’m sorry about my brother,” Sam says as you walk. “He’s … well, wish I could say he’s not always like that, but … ”

“No need to explain,” you tell him, smiling. “He does seem worried about you though.” You gesture for him to get comfortable on the stretcher and he removes his shirt without you having to ask. You pull on nitrile gloves and put a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back so you can examine him.

He looks even taller once his long frame is stretched out in the back of your rig. And his muscular chest and abdomen are now on full display.

_God, he’s even more breathtaking than you’d have imagined._

“So Sam, do you make a habit of rescuing strangers?” you ask, attempting conversation as you wrap a blood pressure cuff around his bicep.

He chuckles, and the simple act of it seems to take a weight from his shoulders. “I’m sure there are worse things to do with my time.”

“Not going to argue that,” you agree as you put the bell of your stethoscope just inside the cuff and inflate it. You watch the gauge, noting the reading at the sound of the first and last beat. “Your blood pressure is 100/60. That’s awesome.” You release the velcro on the cuff with a satisfying tearing sound and set it aside. “How’s your head?”

“It’s not bad. Just a scratch.”

“Pain scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst,” you press.

“Maybe a 3. “

“Pain or tenderness anywhere else?” you ask as you feel along his cervical spine gently.

“No.”

You check his pupils with a pen light, moving your finger for him to track from side to side. His pupils are equal, round, and reactive to light; the irises a warm hazel color, all intense and bright and goddamn distracting.

“So, did you see the woman go under?” you ask, both out of curiosity and a desire to gauge his recall.

“Yeah. I went in after her, but she was sort of frantic. She took us both under a couple of times. She was unconscious by the time I got her to shore.”

“That was a brave thing you did. She could have taken you both down…. Did you inhale any water?”

“Yeah, but I did plenty of coughing it back up while my brother started CPR on the woman. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Promise I’ve seen worse.” You clipped a finger probe to his left index finger.

“Yeah, I imagine you have,” he says thoughtfully, watching your face. You feel heat rush into your cheeks at his stare, despite your act of playing it cool.

“Your blood oxygen is 95%,” you read outloud.

“Is that good?” he asks, seeing you bite your bottom lip in thought.

“It’s not fantastic…. You appear to be in great shape. I’d expect it to be a little higher, honestly.” And that was a thinly veiled compliment you’d managed there. You mentally high-five yourself.

“Just came out of the lake and finished a few rounds of CPR on a woman,” Sam says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Give me a bit of a breather. I’m sure it’ll come up.

You raise an eyebrow. “How about some oxygen while we wait, then.” You hand him a mask and he reluctantly holds it over his mouth and nose while you adjust the airflow. “Alright then, let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

You work to disinfect the laceration on his forehead. His brother - Dean, Sam had called him - walks over to peek in and see how Sam is doing.

“I’m good, man,” Sam assures him, seeing his brother's concern as he eyes the oxygen mask.

“You two must have some mad CPR skills to have revived that woman,” you tell them both. “She’s really lucky.”

“Right place, right time,” Dean says with a little one -shouldered shrug. “Looks like you’re in good hands,” he tells Sam, giving you a quick wink.

_God, he’s handsome as hell, too, now that you’re letting yourself think about it. What was up with the genes in this family?_

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Dean adds. “And don’t let him fool you. He was practically hacking up a lung back there.”

You smile and nod and Dean heads back over to talk with the officer and your partner again, leaving you to finish up with Sam.

“Bet you don’t get bored in your line of work,” Sam says, lifting the mask off his face just enough so as not to muffle his voice.

“You’ve got that right. Never a dull moment,” you agree. “I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. What can I say?”

“I think it’s great … helping people for a living.”

The gash on his forehead isn’t deep and doesn’t require stitches, so you secure a couple of butterfly bandages in place and check his blood oxygen again. It’s at 96%.

“I’m just going to take a listen to listen to your lungs,” you tell him, earning a nod in return. “That’s an interesting tattoo you have,” you say as you put your stethoscope back on.

“Oh yeah. Buddies and I formed a band in college and decided to get inked with the band logo. Let’s just say playing drums didn’t pay the bills, but this,” he gestures to the symbol just above his left pec. “Well, I’m stuck with it.”

“At least it looks cool,” you say. “Could have been worse.”

He smiles. “Suppose you’re right.”

You hold the diaphragm of your stethoscope to his chest, starting below his clavicle on his right side. “Deep breaths for me.”

Sam does as you ask, and you listen to him inhale and exhale, alternating sides as you make your way down. You compare lung sounds from one side to the other, noting the pause time between breaths, the quality of pitch, and how long each respiration cycle lasts.

You watch as well as listen, seeing the movement of the abdominal wall as his broad chest expands and relaxes. Having a valid excuse to stare at a man with his physique is a job perk you’ll happily enjoy right now.

Then you instruct him to breathe normally and move on to listening to his heart. You work through all the auscultation points, beginning with his aortic valve before continuing on through the pulmonic and Erb’s point. You note the sound of the valves as they open and close, listening for murmurs and other irregularities as you continue your exam down through the tricuspid and mitral valves.

He has a beautiful heartbeat, one you could easily lose yourself in for hours. It’s strong and steady and thumpy and stirs something inside you. And for the briefest second, you imagine how incredible it would be to cuddle with Sam and rest your ear against his chest. To feel the strong _lub-dub_ of his heart muscle contracting against your cheek. To maybe even do things that would make it beat faster. Harder.

_God, you really need to get a grip._

You can’t remember the last time you were so enamored by a patient. _If_ you’d ever been so enamored by a patient.

You pull your focus in and briefly check for normal bowel sounds before removing your stethoscope.

“Your lungs sound clear,” you tell him as you place your hand flat against his abdomen, pressing gentle and deep as you palpate for abnormalities. “There doesn’t seem to be any fluid in them, but there’s a risk for bacterial pneumonia after inhaling that lake water. I’ll feel better if you’ll let us transport you to the hospital and see about maybe getting some antibiotics to prevent it. Let the doctors do a more thorough exam.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Sam says, pulling the mask away to speak, a soft smile playing on his lips as those hazel eyes lock on yours. “Really. I do. But my brother and I are just passing through town. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and I’d really rather not spend the night in an emergency room. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

That last statement sounds loaded, and you wonder what kinds of stories Sam could tell in a different setting.

“Look,” he says, wiggling the pulse ox clip on his finger with a grin. “Up to 97%.”

You grin as you remove your hands from his abdomen and pull your gloves off. “Well, tough guy, I can’t make you go,” you say as you unclip the finger probe and reach for the clipboard nearby. He sits up and you hand it over to him with a pen. “Alright, you’ll just need to sign here stating that you wish to refuse a trip to the emergency room.”

Sam glances at the form briefly before adding his John Hancock to the line at the bottom.

He pulls his shirt back over his head, his eyes meeting yours. “Thank you. For everything.” He climbs out of the back of the ambulance, turning to face you again.

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider that free ride to the hospital?”

Sam smiles and it’s warm, genuine. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a hint of shyness creeping into his expression as he takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Why don’t you give me your number, and later tonight I’ll give you a call and you can give me a more thorough exam … you know, just to make sure everything is in working order.”

Your heart practically leaps into your throat at the prospect. _Is he serious?_ You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his body language.

“Unless, of course, you already have plans,” he says slowly as an afterthought. But he’s standing there facing you, all full of promise and oozing sex appeal, his head cocked slightly, awaiting your response.

“No, I-I’m free.”

Sam grins and pulls his phone from his pocket, offering it to you. “Sounds more fun than a hospital, am I right?”

You blink at him, recovering from your momentary stupor to accept the phone. “God yes.” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Sam chuckles and smiles in response.

He runs his hand through his damp hair, shifting his weight a little as you quickly add your number to his contacts and text yourself so you’ll have his.

“Talk to you a little later then,” he says as you hand him back the phone. “Thanks again.”

You smile like an idiot and watch him as he walks over to join his brother and wrap up his statement with the police.

_God, just the idea of what you could do to that man once you get him alone is enough to make your heart shift gears. Tonight…._

You partner makes her way back over to the rig, finding you staring into space.

“Okay there?” she teases. She’s totally onto you. And you don’t even care. You’re too happy to care.

“Far from it,” you say with a laugh. “But I’m not complaining.”


End file.
